


Take Your Child to Work Day

by FidotheFinch



Series: Batfam Week 2020 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian bonds with an even smaller child, Gen, intruder, it's cute until suddenly it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FidotheFinch/pseuds/FidotheFinch
Summary: The Wayne family must make an appearance at Wayne Enterprise's "Take your Child to Work" Day, but it doesn't mean they have to sit in Bruce's office the entire time. The kids hang out in the daycare center, and Damian meets a child who doesn't belong. His plans to reunite her with her father are thwarted when there's an intruder.
Series: Batfam Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660387
Comments: 25
Kudos: 318
Collections: Tales from the Cave





	Take Your Child to Work Day

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be an entry for Batfam Week 2020, but as most of you know, the world imploded. Coincidentally, this story kept getting longer and longer, so here we are.

“Up!”

Damian scowled down at the child standing at his feet, small arms held aloft in anticipation.

He glanced across the room, where Jason had become the new jungle gym for the four- and five-year-olds. All it had taken was picking up _one_ child, and he had been overtaken by a swarm of snotty children.

Damian was not about to submit himself to the same fate.

“I will not pick you up. You are too old.”

The child stared at him, unblinking. Even Damian had to admit he was kind of cute, if you looked past the dried drool on his dinosaur shirt and what looked suspiciously like bright pink playdoh under his overlong fingernails. His eyes were big, brown, and framed by thick lashes.

As Damian still didn’t respond, they started to well up.

There was a sigh from behind him, and Richard swooped around to scoop the child up, tossing him high before catching him. The child giggled, all sadness forgotten. “Come on, Damian. He’s barely two.”

Damian crossed his arms, hoping no other children would get any ideas. “He can _walk_.”

“It’s not about that.” Richard crouched so the toddler was sitting on his bent knee. “Come on, even _you_ like being carried every once in a while.”

“Tt. I do-- _put me down!”_

Jason had freed himself, apparently.

Damian found himself flipped backward, knees hooked over Jason’s shoulders. From here, he had a clear view of Timothy, who snickered and held a camera up in his direction. He had gotten away with taking the photos, because he ‘actually worked at Wayne Enterprise’ and ‘had a board meeting that afternoon’ and ‘what would Alfred say if he got Goldfish crumbs on his nice jacket.’

Damian stuck his tongue out and took great pleasure in using Jason’s face to haul himself upright on his older brother’s shoulders.

Dick had positioned the other child in a similar fashion, and Damian winced sympathetically at the way the toddler dug his fingers into Richard’s longer locks. But the eldest Wayne child just grinned, and the way his eyes sparkled told Damian it was genuine.

That morning, Bruce had reminded them (told them for the first time) that today was Wayne Enterprise’s annual ‘Take your Child to Work’ day, and they were all expected to show up. Spending their forced PR stunt in the day care center instead of Bruce’s office was a small, collective act of rebellion.

And, Damian had to admit, it was less boring, too.

“One two three eyes on me!”

The air was sucked out of the room as every toddler stopped what they were doing and turned to Miss Heather, their teacher, with rapt attention.

Miss Heather beamed. “Okay, class, can we show our new friends what great listeners we are?”

The kid on Richard’s shoulders pumped a fist in the air and said, “Yeah!”

Heather winked in Richard’s direction. “Today is a special day, and I have a surprise for you! But first we have to clean up.”

Without another word of prompting, the children around them started to clumsily tidy up the room, many of them putting playdoh in the wrong tubs, mis-sorting toys, and leaving behind unidentifiable crumbs. Damian kicked his feet against Jason’s chest softly, then more insistently, and the older boy finally let him down. Richard’s ward—the nametag on his back said “Evan,” and he was allergic to latex—had already escaped to the play kitchen, where he was busy shoving plastic food and cutlery into the oven.

While the children worked, Heather strolled over to them. “You guys have another hour? I could use the extra eyes today, with all of the extra kids.”

“I have to go,” Tim announced. “Sorry.”

Before Damian could seize the opportunity to leave, Dick settled an arm over his shoulders. “The rest of us can hang out a bit longer.”

Cassandra glided to Damian’s other side. “I want to stay.”

And that was that.

A little girl with a big bow barely clinging to her hair sat in Cassandra’s arms. The child’s half-lidded eyes roamed over Damian’s frame before settling somewhere near his mouth.

She pointed to the spot with her stubby fingers. “Hurt?”

Damian raised his fingers to the spot, then stopped himself. Usually people didn’t comment on the light scar that ran down the side of his chin. “It’s old. Nothing to worry about.” 

The kid blinked at him, and without further hesitation smacked her lips against her hand and lightly smacked his face. “All better!”

Damian felt his face heating up, but with a quick glance it looked like nobody else had seen the interaction. (Well, Cassandra definitely did. She held a finger to her mouth in a silent promise she wouldn’t tell.) “Um. Thanks,” Damian mumbled.

“Okay, class! It’s time to go on adventure! I need everyone to line up behind me at the door!”

The adventure, it turned out, was a walk around the third floor. Somebody had planted small items all over, and Heather led the kids through the lobby, where they talked to the receptionist and other adults with the microphone they ‘found.’ They wandered down the circular hallway, creeping quietly ‘so they didn’t wake up the giants’ sleeping in their offices. When they reached one particularly large window, there were cheap kaleidoscopes hidden in a fake plant that the kids used to look outside and ‘catch the rainbow.’

Damian was following the gaggle of children—their ability to form a straight line was deplorable—when something grabbed his hand. He had to fight his instincts to avoid hitting the child in the face. When he looked down, it was to a little girl with dark skin and hair pulled into two curly poofs. Her hand was wrapped tightly around three of his fingers.

“Ex-coose me what’s your name?” she asked in a stage whisper.

Damian glanced up. Most of the crowd was distracted by Heather, who animatedly warned the kids about the troll that lived in the heating vents. But Richard did a scan, (counting heads, probably), and met Damian’s eyes. He nodded encouragingly.

“Ex-coose me,” the girl repeated, tugging on Damian’s hand a little.

Damian looked down, and she rose to her tiptoes to see where he had been looking over the heads of her classmates. “Is that your daddy?”

Damian knew Richard had heard. He chose to ignore the question. “My name is Damian. What is your name?”

She forgot all about Richard, and held onto Damian’s hand with both of hers and leaned back, using his arm as an anchor. “Joobee.”

“What?”

“ _Joo-bee_.”

Damian peeked over her shoulder to look for her nametag.

She wasn’t wearing one. It wasn’t too uncommon; they were on the children’s backs for a reason, after all. Another child could have peeled it off, or it may have gotten wet and the adhesive lost its tackiness.

His thoughts were interrupted when Heather clapped her hands. “Okay, class, it looks like it’s almost time for lunch! We should go back to our classroom so we can wash our hands.”

As Heather turned to lead the class back from whence they came, Joobee latched onto Damian’s leg. “Excuse me, Day-min?”

“It’s Damian. Day-mee-an.”

“Um excuse me—”

“What?”

“Can you help me find my daddy?”

“Your father will pick you up when he is done working.” But, even as he said it, Damian noticed that she wasn’t wearing shoes. Her small socked feet were dirty. And she was still wearing her jacket, even though all of the children dropped off that morning had put their jackets in their cubbies upon arrival.

Damian crouched down to her level (because that seemed like something Richard would do.) “Are you lost?”

Joobee bit on her lips and nodded. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Do you know what your father’s name is?”

Joobee sniffled. “Daddy.”

“Yes, what is his name.”

“I don’t know.”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “TT. Where were you before you got lost?”

“Daddy’s work.”

“Did you go up or down any stairs?”

Joobee’s face scrunched up. She shook her head.

Damian sighed, deciding to let the questioning be done after she’s eaten. “Don’t worry, we will find your father.” There was a security desk right in front of the daycare, and the phone on the wall would notify every floor about the child.

Damian looked over to join the group, but tensed when he realized the lobby was empty. The group must not have noticed that he had stayed behind.

No worries, they would reconvene at the classroom. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Richard: ‘I found a lost child. I will meet you at the classroom.’

“Okay, come with me.”

Damian began walking confidently in the direction the group had left, but it took several strides for Joobee to catch up.

She followed him closely, but when they passed the elevator, Joobee lagged behind. “Alligator.”

Damian paused, glancing at the silver doors. “Did you ride on the elevator?”

She nodded, and reached up to hit the button to call it. The elevator groaned as it started to move toward them.

Damian grabbed Joobee’s hand. “We are not riding the elevator. We are going to a classroom designed for children.” When that didn’t get any kind of reaction out of her, he tacked on, “There are many toys. And snack.”

The elevator doors slid open, and Damian prepared himself for wrestling a toddler away from entering. But she remained still, staring up at the looming figure above them. Damian looked up, too, just in time to duck out of the way as the man rushed out.

He stopped in the lobby, looking around. He was dressed in ill-fitting military fatigues and nearly-threadbare sneakers, and his shoulders were hiked up almost to his ears. He breathed loudly, like he had just sprint up the steps.

The elevator doors shut.

Damian pulled Joobee behind himself. “Can I help you?”

The man ignored him, stomping toward the locked conference room across the lobby. He barely paused at the door. With a loud yell, the man drew back his fist and drove it straight through the glass.

Damian yanked Joobee up into his arms. She hadn’t caught on to what was happening yet, and she made a noise of protest at the harsh handling.

The man whirled around at the noise to face Damian again. Now that Damian was looking, he noticed his pupils were tiny pinpricks.

The man lunged toward him, and Damian took off down the hallway.

The man followed, wordless, with long uneven strides.

Joobee bounced in his arms, clutching his neck like a lifeline. Damian would swing her around to carry her on his back, but didn’t want her any closer to the mad man closing in on them.

Damian’s legs were shorter than the man’s, and no amount of training was going to change how quickly he closed the distance between them.

A big hand landed on his shoulder, yanking Damian back. He grit his teeth and wrapped his arms tighter around the child in his arms. When he saw the man’s other hand reaching toward him, he pivoted and ducked under both of his arms, running back toward the elevator.

The man took longer to change his momentum. It bought him time, but not much.

Damian checked over the bundle in his arms. She was crying, obviously scared, but seemed unharmed. “Joobee, I need you to listen very closely.”

Her wide eyes locked on his.

He took the opportunity to shift her weight, bouncing her higher in his arms so she wouldn’t slip any further.

Panting now, he whispered, “Joobee, I need you to be _very_ quiet. Can you do that?”

She made a shushing sound and put a finger over her mouth.

Damian glanced behind him. The man had gotten distracted at an open office door, and it gave Damian just enough time to zip around a corner out of sight. He scanned the hallway quickly, and his eyes landed on a closet door barely cracked open.

He heard footsteps approaching again, so wasted no time rushing into the room. It was a janitor’s closet. Shelves lined the walls, and a mop sink took up the far corner of the floor. When he shut the door behind them, they were enclosed in darkness.

He waited, trying to hold his breath so his panting wouldn’t give them away, straining his ears.

“Hide and Seek?” a small voice whispered from his arms.

Damian put his hand over her mouth. Remembering the adventure earlier, he whispered, “Don’t wake up the giant.”

He felt her nod.

Uneven footsteps arrived to the hall. “Hey, _kid_!” The shout was ragged, as though he had been yelling a lot that day.

The footsteps got closer, and Damian silently backed up in the closet. With his free hand, he reached behind himself and grabbed a wooden mop handle. It was tacky from years of use, but solid enough to do damage should he need to do it. He thought he could even make it look like something a civilian should be able to pull off.

He set Joobee down gently, and positioned himself in front of her.

The steps slowed as they reached his door.

Damian focused, rolling his weight into the balls of his feet. His fingers flexed around the handle.

The steps passed him, easily as they passed the other doors.

Damian felt himself relax. He tossed the mop handle to his non-dominant hand so he could pull out his phone. He had a missed call, from Richard. He was lucky the phone had been on silent.

He typed a quick message: ‘SOS. Lockdown.’

Sent it to Richard, and after a moment sent it to his Father as well.

Now, all they could do was wait.

Damian didn’t know how far away the man had gotten. But the next hall was a dead end, and if the man was actively pursuing them, there was a good chance he would come back. So Damian remained on his feet, between her and the door.

A sniffle. “I want my daddy.”

Damian strained his ears, but it didn’t sound like there was any immediate danger. He reached his free hand behind himself to find Joobee’s head.

He didn’t know what to do. He pat it a few times. “We will find him,” he whispered.

She didn’t stop crying, though. “I’m scared.”

Damian tensed when she grabbed him from behind. Her tiny arms barely wrapped around his thighs.

He turned in her grip, so she was hiding her face in his hip. It almost felt natural for his arm to rest over her shoulder, and for his hand to start rubbing circles into her back. “That is understandable, under the circumstances.”

He wasn’t going to tell her not to be afraid. His Mother had done that. He distinctly remembered that it never worked.

“Despite your fear, you can still act with courage.”

“Brave like Batman.”

Damian’s hand stuttered. “Yes. Brave like Batman.”

Damian’s eyes had begun to adjust to the dark, so he could see Joobee’s face as the peeked up at him. “I’m Batman. You’re Robin.”

Damian played cool. “Do not be ridiculous. You are the small one; you are Robin.”

She did not look happy about that, but at least she wasn’t crying anymore. “ _I_ am Batman.” She said it with a slightly lower voice, like she was imitating Bruce’s growl. “Don’t be afraid. I will protect you.”

Damian sighed. He was really going to have to do this. “Well, it’s Robin’s job to protect Batman.”

He checked his phone. The building was under lockdown, but they hadn’t found the man yet.

“Did you know that Batman is super quiet? Can you be quiet like Batman?”

Joobee hummed an ‘uh-huh,’ and settled. (She was better at playing Batman than she realized.)

Damian crept to the door and pressed and ear to the wall. He couldn’t hear anything other than his own pulse.

“Okay, Batman,” he whispered. “I am going to call the police officers and tell them where the villains are.” Damian didn’t wait for an answer to pick up his phone. He had missed three more calls, from his Father and Richard and Jason.

He called his Father. No need to distract the others from the children.

It picked up on the first ring. “Damian!”

Damian turned down the call volume. “Father.”

“Where are you? What happened? Are you hurt?”

“There is a small child with me. She was lost, and we were looking for her parents.”

There was a relieved sigh on the other side of the line. “We’ve been looking for her. Her dad was worried sick. We thought the man—never mind. Where are you?”

“The janitorial closet on the third floor. Have you not apprehended the man yet?”

“Not yet. He’s moving too fast. Wait until somebody collects you.”

Damian clicked his tongue.

His father knew what that meant. “I mean it. We don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“We are sitting ducks.”

“No, you’re hidden ducks. You’re safer there than in the halls.”

Damian pulled the phone away from his ear. He thought he had heard something, outside.

Bruce sighed, misinterpreting his silence. “You have a child with you. She’s _normal_. _You_ have to be normal.”

Damian grimaced. “I have to go.”

“Wait--”

Damian hung up the phone. There were footsteps outside.

There was no way his ‘rescue’ had arrived that quickly.

“Joobee, get behind me,” Damian whispered harshly. He stepped away from the door again, and braced the mop handle between his two hands.

Not a second later, something pounded on the other side of the door.

Joobee screamed. So much for being quiet.

“I know you’re in there! Let me in!” The pounding continued, rattling even the hinges.

Damian crowded Joobee further behind himself. “Stay back,” Damian whispered. “If I tell you to run, you run down the hallway. Understand?”

She didn’t reply. She kept screaming. Toddlers were difficult to handle in emergency situations.

The door shook with the force of the man’s next push on the door. He wasn’t just using his hands any more; he was clearly trying to break it down. Heart pounding in his ears, Damian scanned the closet again, and recruited the broken lobby chair as another obstacle.

It was just in time. Just as Damian stepped back, the closet door flew open, hanging off one hinge. Joobee screamed again, in that shrill voice only a toddler could use. Damian found himself standing barely out of reach of a heaving, angry man.

There was no time to think. Damian spun the mop in his hands, checking the balance, and jabbed the handle end toward the man’s chest.

The man tried to grab it, but Damian swished it out of the way and used the man’s slow reflexes to bring it down on his head. The resulting _crack_ was loud. The man balled himself tight, holding his throbbing head in his hands.

Damian took the opportunity to jab him in the shoulder again, and it was enough to push him out of the doorway. Damian followed, using the mop handle to herd the man to one side.

“Joobee! Go!”

To her credit, she ran.

Damian only glanced backward long enough to make sure she was going the right way.

The man reacted to her departure with vigor anew, and it was only a matter of time before his sheer size bested Damian’s strength. One sinewy hand wrapped around the head of the mop pinning him to the wall, and Damian was being yanked back into arm’s reach.

Damian had enough sense to let go, but not before the handle left several splinters deep in his calloused hands. He ducked under the fist wildly flying toward his head and used his momentum to continue sprinting down the hall, away from Joobee.

The man took the bait and followed.

Damian was much faster without the extra weight of a scared child, but it did him no good when he rounded the corner and met the end of the hallway. He backpedaled before he ran into it.

There was a mirror mounted over a skinny table along the wall, so Damian saw when the man swung the mop at his head. He ducked, and the mop whistled as it barely missed him, crashing instead into the mirror. The glass shattered into a million shards.

The man _shrieked_ , and when Damian looked up, his heart sank.

The man loomed over him, mop forgotten. In his hand was a large shard of glass, wielded like a knife.

Damian took a step back, but he ran into the table behind himself. “Sir, if you come any closer, I will be forced to take drastic measures.”

The man’s eyes didn’t even blink. He stared down at Damian like a cat hunting its prey. His hand tightened around the glass, and Damian watched as blood welled up and dripped down his wrist.

“Hold still,” the man whispered.

The change in volume sent a chill down Damian’s spine. “Stay back—”

 _Clunk_!

The man’s eyes widened. His hand slackened. His body crumpled to the floor.

Damian pressed back into the table, watching the man go limp with a startled gasp. “What—”

“ _Damian!_ ”

And there was Bruce, holding the business end of the mop. Three security guards sprinted around the corner, weapons hoisted. They paused when they saw everything was taken care of.

“Father?”

The man in question threw the mop aside and ran toward Damian. He slid to his knees in front of him, completely ignoring the glass dusted across the carpet. “Damian! Are—Are you hurt? What happened?”

One of the security guards rested a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Mr. Wayne, please step away from the man while we assess the situation.”

Bruce nodded absently, eyes not leaving Damian’s face. “Yes, of course.”

And, without a moment of hesitation, he scooped Damian up.

Damian was shocked into moving again. “Put me down!”

Bruce picked over the limp form of the unconscious intruder and continued down the hall, ignoring him. “Are you hurt?”

Accepting his fate, Damian grumbled, “No.” As they passed the closet he had been hiding in, Damian caught his father’s attention again. “The child! She went the other way!”

No sooner had the words left his lips than Tim came down the hall, springing after a toddler.

“Day-min!”

Bruce finally put Damian down, so Damian could approach her in an acceptable manner. “Joobee. I am glad to see you are well.”

She didn’t even stop. She careened straight into him, small arms not able to reach around his legs.

“She’s fast,” Tim wheezed. “Dick saw her near the preschool, but they couldn’t get the doors open because of the lockdown.”

Bruce hummed. “That’s something we should fix.”

Damian felt a tug on his shirt, and he looked down to see Joobee staring at Bruce. “Is that your daddy?”

Damian cleared his throat. “Yes, this is my father.”

“He’s big.”

Damian wasn’t sure how to reply, but then he did. “It is because he ate his vegetables as a child. If you eat your vegetables, you can grow big and strong, too.”

Tim snorted. Whether it was from the _idea_ of Damian telling a white lie for the sake of a child, or from the disappointed expression on Joobee’s face, Damian couldn’t tell.

The elevator dinged, and Joobee’s head swiveled to it like a dog to a squirrel. Off stepped a man with dark skin, wearing a suit and holding a little pink backpack in one hand.

“Daddy!”

“Jubilee!”

He knelt down and easily swept her up into his arms. She wrapped her little arms around his neck, and he held her like he was afraid she was going to disappear. “Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again,” he said.

She didn’t reply. She held on tighter.

Damian stepped up to them. “You are her father?”

He nodded. Damian pretended he didn’t notice the tears in his eyes.

“She is a remarkable child. You should be proud.”

The man smiled wetly. “She is, she is. I am.” He sniffed and took a moment to collect himself before continuing, “You must be Wayne’s kid.”

“Damian.”

Joobee—Jubilee—turned partway around and pointed a stubby finger toward him. “That’s Robin!”

Only a well-trained eye could have noticed the way that Tim and Bruce tensed. But her father just laughed. “And I suppose you think that you’re Batman.”

“I _am_ Batman. Day-min said so!”

Her dad chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, Batman, what do you think you should say to Damian for helping you?”

Jubilee’s little face scrunched as she thought. “He said Batman was quiet.”

Her father sighed. “Thank you, Damian. And thank you, Mr. Wayne. I don’t know what I would have done if anything had happened to her.” He shifted Jubilee to his other arm. “Thank you, so much.”

Damian nodded.

Jubilee’s father picked up her backpack. “Do you need anything else from me? A statement? Anything?”

Bruce stepped forward. “Not at this time. If we need anything, we can ask tomorrow.”

“Okay. I think we’re going to go home now.”

At the words, Jubilee squirmed until her father set her down, and she raced to press the elevator button. When it was lit, she turned around and waved at Damian. “Bye! See you tomorrow!”

“I don’t think you will, sweetheart. You’re staying home.” Her father stepped onto the elevator with her, and turned back to the family scattered through the lobby. “Again. Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Damian replied.

“Not to me. Thank you.”

The elevator doors slid shut.

Bruce rested a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

Damian fought back the warm glow in his chest. “TT. It is nothing compared to—”

He didn’t get to finish, because Bruce was enveloping him in a hug. “Don’t ever do that to me again, okay?”

Damian stiffened, acutely aware of Tim standing in the hallway, ogling them. But his father’s arms were warm, and his body blocked most of Tim’s view of Damian. So maybe he relaxed, slightly. “No promises.”

* * *

It came as a surprise to nobody that, after statements had been collected and the man identified, the Wayne family left early.

“So the police knew the guy?” Jason asked.

“Yeah. They said they pick him up every couple of months, when he stops taking his meds,” Tim replied. “Repeat offender, but he’s never been violent before.”

Bruce hummed. “I have arranged for him to be taken to a privately-owned mental health facility, where I am hoping he can make progress.”

Damian sat between Richard and Cassandra in the back seat of their vehicle. He could see Bruce sneaking glances of him every few minutes. With another small prod from Cass, he decided to wield that power. “Because of the events that unfolded, and the nature of the holiday at the office and all of the extra liability it brought to the building, would you consider cancelling next year’s bring-your-child-to-work day?”

His siblings quieted, listening intently.

Bruce had the decency to pretend to think about it. “Not a chance.”

A chorus of groans followed.


End file.
